


Fading Mark

by Not__Misha__Collins



Series: After the War [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, Gen, Hurt Draco Malfoy, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, Regret, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not__Misha__Collins/pseuds/Not__Misha__Collins
Summary: Harry finds out what Draco has been up to since the war.





	1. Chapter 1

Draco grabbed the ancient house elf by the arm and dragged him into the open.

“Potter sent you,” He slurred.

“Kreacher doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” the house elf spoke.

“The war is over,” Draco rolled up his sleeve to reveal his faded death eater mark, covered in scratches, burns and cuts, “It would do to remind him of that.”

…

“I’m thinking of opening up shop again,” George announced.

“Really?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” George said, “I’ll need to do some dusting and re-shelving, but, yeah. I think I’m ready.”

“That’s terrific, honey,” Molly said.

“That’s what Fred would want,” Arthur added happily.

Ron came downstairs to join the family for dinner and was carrying a small bag.

“Are you sure you want to spend the whole weekend at…” Molly began.

“Mum, it’s just a few days,” Ron retorted.

“Yeah,” George teased, “What could two young adults POSSIBLY get up to over a whole weekend in a house all to themselves?”

“Be careful,” Molly said.

…

“He knows,” Harry repeated.

“Kreacher is sorry, Master.”

“It’s all right,” Harry heard the door open, “Ron’s here.”

“Harry,” The redhead greeted.

“Ron,” Harry smiled, “Hermione will be here tomorrow.”

“A whole night to ourselves?” Ron smirked.

“I might have planned it this way.”

…

Hermione arrived the next morning, as promised.

“Where are we on Draco watch?” She asked.

“Draco caught Kreacher outside the Hog’s Head,” Harry filled, “Like he’s been telling me, Draco goes there almost every day, comes out stumbling and shaking, and goes down the alley next to the bar. The other days, he just kind of disappears.”

“Apparition,” Hermione figured, “You said he was shaking?”

Harry nodded.

“We need to find him,” she stated.

…

Draco crept into an alley near the Hog’s Head, far enough away from the street so that he could meet with the person he needed to.

“I gave you the last one half-price,” The man spoke, “You want anything else, you’re gonna have to work a little harder. You’ve been slacking lately.”

“I’m sorry. Please…I’m trying…”

Draco whimpered.

“A Malfoy, begging? Pathetic.”

“I’ll do anything…”

“Anything,” The man repeated.

“Yes,” Draco seemed pained by the words, “Anything.”

The man shoved him against a wall. Hands grabbed his hips.

“What are you doing?” Draco panicked.

“You said ANYTHING,” The man taunted, “I can use you however I want now.”

The man pulled out a wand.

“No, don’t…” Draco pleaded.

“Silencio,” The man spoke.

…

“Over here,” Draco heard a whisper as three people ran down the alley toward him, “Be quiet. Wands out.”

Draco lied on the ground at the end of the alley, body completely stiff, with tear stained eyes. **Not them, anyone but them**. He would run if he could.

“Body bind curse,” Hermione stated.

**What would they do to him?** His nerves were on fire, heart racing within his frozen body. He wanted to scream.

“Draco, we’re going to unbind you,” Harry said, “But please don’t run away. We want to help.”

**Help. Sure**. Draco felt the stiffness leave his body, yet he couldn’t stand up. He just whimpered helplessly. He began to lose consciousness.

“We can’t leave him here,” Harry spoke.

…

“Get. Up.” What that his father’s voice? Had Potter taken him home? “I said, Get. Up.”

Draco stood up. He was on the floor. This was a nightmare.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His father commanded.

“I…I…”

Draco flinched as Lucius grabbed his hair.

“You sniveling little shit,” His father spat, “I’ve barely layed a hand on you and you’re practically in tears.”

…

“This is the last place he’ll want to wake up,” Draco overheard Harry speak.

“At least he’ll WAKE up,” Hermione said, “He’s having withdraws, probably what was making him shake. And, when we brought him here, I saw needle marks. I think he’s been using muggle drugs.”

“Wizards have…illicit drugs?” Harry asked.

“Yes. They’re illegal, but it is a problem.”

…

Draco opened his eyes slowly, nothing that he was lying on an unfamiliar bed. Did Potter take him somewhere, to his home, maybe?

“He’s awake,” Potter’s voice, “Stay back, he won’t want to see all three of us at once.”

Draco closed his eyes when Potter entered. For his archenemy to see him like this…What does he want? And what will he do?

“Draco,” Harry spoke.

The blonde ignored the voice.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Potter continued, “You’re at my house, twelve Grimmuald Place. Can…you tell me what happened?”

“I went into an alley with another man, Potter. Take a wild fucking guess what happened.”

“Right. Did he bind you, too?”

“Didn’t stop there.”

“Oh?”

Don’t give him any ideas.

“Cru…cruc…cruci…”

“Crucio?” Potter asked, and Draco waited for the pain to come, “Draco. I’m sorry, Draco. I won’t use the word again.”

Draco relaxed and finally reopened his eyes, not looking at Potter.

“It’s a punishment.”

“A punishment? For what, exactly?”

“Not doing a job properly.”

“He body binded and then cr…’c’ cursed you, because you didn’t do a job right?”

“Yes,” Draco answered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I’ll show you the bathroom if you can get up,” Potter said, “And, you can call me Harry, if you want.”

…

The next voice he heard was female. Granger, the one he’d called ‘mudblood’.

“Evening, Draco,” She greeted.

“They sent you in here alone?” Draco quipped.

“Harry’s in the hallway,” She said, “And, I have this.”

She lifted her wand, and Draco flinched.

“Which I will not use,” she comforted.

“Why would a mud- muggle born want to speak to me?” He asked.

“Because you corrected yourself,” She smiled.

“You’re not making any sense, Granger.”

“Your parents taught you to hate,” She said, “They might have even persuaded you to become a death eater.”

“My father…was a very…persuasive man.”

Her eyes were full of understanding and sympathy. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Here,” She handed him a small vial, “For the withdraws.”

“Withdraws,” Draco scoffed.

“We’re not going to turn you in,” She assured him, “This should help with most of the symptoms.”

Draco took the vial, opened, and smelled it.

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

“Why would we poison you?”

He pointed to the scratched mark on his arm.

“Harry wouldn’t bring you here if he thought that still mattered.”

Draco nodded and downed the potion.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked.

“You need it,” She said, “When Harry saw you at the bar…”

“He sent his damn house elf to spy on me.”

“Only for a couple of weeks,” She corrected, “The guy who cursed you…”

“I owe him money,” Draco said, “He gives me a place to stay.”

“Because you can’t go home?”

“Won’t,” Draco snarled.

“Does he give you drugs, too?”

“None of your damn business, Granger!” he snapped.

Why should she get to know? Why should any of them get to know?

“Kreacher will bring dinner,” She said, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

“I used my wand to scan him,” Hermione spoke, “He’s got a lot in his system, enough to kill two muggles.”

“So, how is he still alive?” Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I think that’s the point.”

“That guy was his dealer,” Harry figured.

“And it’s not hard to figure what kind of ‘work’ he’s been up to.”

“Not like he’d admit it,” Ron said, “He hates us.”

“Thinking like that won’t help anyone,” Hermione said.

“It’s true!”

“He doesn’t deserve to be crucio-ed,” Harry said, “No matter what he’s done.”

“He tried to do it to you!” Ron added.

“I know.”

…

It was Sunday when Draco woke up again. He hadn’t realized how tired, how sick he was. **Why is he being allowed to sleep this long? Oh, right. Harry and friends. What do they want? Is it really some twisted form of revenge?** He sat up, and for the first time since throwing up in Harry’s bathroom, stood up. The place looked nice, albeit old and a bit dusty, but Draco figured it was inherited. He found his way out of the room, toward the stairs where he heard talking.

“Bye, Harry,” the Weasley boy spoke.

Draco crept down the stairs so he could see, and his eyes widened at the site of Ron kissing Harry on the mouth.

“See you, Ron.”

The Weasley boy ran out the door, and Draco snuck to the bottom of the stairs. What was he going to do, escape? Not with Harry at the exit.

“Draco, you’re awake,” Harry said.

“You…You and Ron?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Draco nodded. Harry obviously didn’t give a shit what Draco thought, and why should he?

“I, um…I was just…hungry,” the blonde spoke.

**Don’t plead, Draco. You’ll make it worse.**

“I’ll have Kreacher make something,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, not knowing what to do next.

“Harry,” Draco gulped, waiting for his former nemesis to listen, “Can…can anyone get in here?”

“The house is hidden to anyone who doesn’t know its location.”

“No one can find this place?” Draco was hopeful.

“Just me and…some friends. Other than that, no one knows this place exists. And it’ll stay that way, all right?”

“Of course,” Draco answered, “Could…could I…?”

He stopped. Why is he afraid of Harry?

“Could you what?”

“Take a shower?”

“Sure,” Harry said, “Just leave your clothes outside the door, and Kreacher will wash them. He washes fast.”

Draco nodded.

…

It was odd getting naked with his old enemy in the vicinity. At least the bathroom door could be locked after he set his clothes outside. When was the last time he’d had a shower in a decent bathroom? How many times had he resorted to the grungy showers of a dirty hotel room, or even just a sink to wash himself? With the shower running, he used what he assumed was Harry’s array of shampoo’s, and a new soap bar to wash off. The water was so hot, so great on his skin, that he wanted it to last forever.

 

After finishing his shower, he grabbed a towel to dry off, and wiped off the large foggy mirror that hung on the wall, over the sink. He looked like hell: dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, skin paler than ever, and a thin face. He wrapped the towel around his body and peaked outside to see his clothes, clean and folded. Quickly, he took them and got dressed, then went back downstairs for the food Harry had mentioned.

“Your food,” Kreacher handed Draco a plate with two fried eggs on it.

Draco nodded and took the food. He didn’t really care for eggs, but he wasn’t about to turn away food. The house elf led him to the kitchen, where Harry was searching for something.

“Draco,” He grabbed two vials off a counter, “The green stuff is for your arm, so it doesn’t get infected. The other is for the withdraws, which Hermione says will start soon.”

Draco took the vials and examined them. Weasley’s Wizarding Weezes. Fred and George’s shop in Diagon Alley. Of course, he knew the Weasley’s lost a sibling, that Harry had lost quite a few people. He opened the green bottle (the liquid was creamy, like lotion), and rubbed it on his mark. Afterwards, he ran his thumb gently over the label.

“The shop,” Draco mentioned, “Is it…still running?”

Harry gave him a strange look. **You’ve done it, Draco. You’ve pissed him off.**

“George is opening it back up,” Harry said, “After cleaning, and some re-stocking.”

“Good,” Draco said.

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” the blonde mumbled, “I never…wanted any of them to…”

Draco stopped. **The time for apologies is over. Even attempting one would probably infuriate Harry.**

“I don’t hate you, Draco,” Harry said.

“No?”

“No,” Harry affirmed, “I dislike you, immensely, but I don’t want you dead, or…’c’ cursed.”

“You tried to kill me,” Draco remembered, “In the bathroom, sixth year. Septum-something.”

“Sectumsempra,” Harry corrected, “I didn’t know what it did. I just…saw it…in a book.”

Draco silently continued eating his eggs.

“He won’t find you here,” Harry added, “That guy who cursed you.”

A smile crossed Draco’s face.

…

“Ron and I are going to help George clean up,” Harry said Monday morning, “You can go anywhere you want, and you’ll be let back in.”

Draco nodded.

“I’ve told Kreacher to take orders from you while I’m gone.”

Another nod, and with that, Harry left.

 

“Kreacher?” Draco called.

“Yes, Mr. Draco?” Kreacher appeared in front of him.

“Could you…retrieve something for me?”

“Of course. What sort of retrieval does Mr. Draco wish?”

“A schoolbag. Green like the Slytherin colors. Has a big Slytherin badge on it. Torn and full of holes. I, um, left it in a hotel room.”

Draco gave Kreacher the hotel address and room number, hoping against all hope that his bag would still be there.

…

Harry returned to find Draco sobbing at the kitchen table, a broken Quidditch broom and a tattered set of robes lay on the table, with a bag at his side.

“My father gave me this broom,” Draco sniffed, “And these robes, just…gone.”

“It was him, wasn’t it? The guy?”

Draco nodded.

“Who is he? I want a name.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Harry insisted, “We can help…”

“No you can’t!” Draco snapped, “You can’t keep everything bad in the world from happening!”

“I know.”

“You already won,” Draco continued, “What the hell do you care about the losers?”

“You don’t deserve this.”

Draco scoffed.

“You’re not a death eater,” Harry said.

“Does this mark mean nothing to you?” Draco demanded.

“Something you tried to burn off your skin,” Harry commented, “You’re not a killer.”

The blonde only stared at him.

“You know the killing curse, don’t you? You’ve hurt people, but you could never murder someone.”

“What do you know about me?” Draco spat.

“I know you and your family were threatened,” Harry answered, “And that your mother saved my life.”

“Saved you?”

“She told Voldemort I was dead.”

Draco clutched the tattered Quidditch robes.

“How often is the curse used on you?”

“Few times a week.”

“A few?”

“T…two or three.”

“That’s nearly every other DAY,” Harry said, “Draco, how long has he been torturing you like this?”

“I’m not being tortured,” the blonde denied.

“Does he pay you?” Harry asked, “Or do you have to rent the rooms yourself?”

Draco went wide-eyed. How does he know?

“That hotel Kreacher found your bag at,” Harry explained, “They said you’re a regular customer. You check in with someone new all the time.”

“So?”

“You ever go to their houses?”

Draco glared at him. “A lot of them have families,” He said, “Children. So, we go to a hotel.”

“Wizards?”

“Mostly. Whoever has money. Or doesn’t, should they choose not to pay.”

“You mean…”

“God, you’re a genius,” Draco added sarcastically, “It means what you THINK it means.”

“I can get you a real job. One where you keep the money.”

“Can you?” Draco asked doubtfully.

“I think so. And I can fix the broom for you, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” George said as he entered twelve Grimmuald Place, “What does he need a job for? He’s…”

George stopped when he saw Draco and let Harry and Ron into the house before him.

“Hello,” Draco greeted.

“Hi,” George said, “Harry said you wanted a job.”

Draco nodded.

“Right,” George spoke, as he took off his bag, “You can do mail orders.”

He pulled some box-shaped envelopes and a few shop products out of his bag and handed them to Draco.

“Harry and Ron will supervise you,” George said, “Because I trust them.”

Draco listened intently.

“Yeah,” Draco said.

“You can start with these,” George continued, “Oh, and there won’t be any curses.”

…

It was hard for Draco to write out the names and package the items because of his hands shaking. He tried to steady them, but having his new boss watching just made it worse.

“Damn it,” Draco whispered when he messed up a name.

“Hey, I said no curses,” George joked, and took out his wand, which made Draco gasp, “Here we are.”

George corrected the lettering on the package.

“Relax,” He said, and dug around in his bag to pull out what looked like a bag of gumdrops, “For the nerves. Take one.”

Draco took the bag and carefully opened it.

“Chocolate watermelon?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.”

The blonde took one and plopped it into his mouth.

“Good,” he said, then went back to packaging.

…

“I’ll have these sent,” George stuffed the addressed goods into his bag, “And I’ll be back in a few days to pay you.”

Draco nodded, and, with that, George started to the door.

“Draco?” Harry questioned.

Why are they staring at him? Draco looked down at his shaking hands. The voices of Harry and Ron seemed to become distant as the blonde fell to the ground.

…

“He needs rest,” an unfamiliar voice spoke, “If he’s truly been cursed this many times, his brain has likely been affected.”

“Which caused the seizure,” Harry’s voice.

“Most likely, yes. Does he have any family…”

“They’ve cut off contact,” Harry answered.

“I see,” the unfamiliar voice said, “I’ll leave you with him for a while.”

Draco heard a door shut.

“So, it’s true then?” George sounded angry, “The cursing, the drugs? I thought you were exaggerating.”

The blonde drifted into unconsciousness.

…

Draco remembered waking up at least once to throw up, remembered not knowing where he was and being terrified, then passing out. Someone must have cleaned up after that, because when he woke up, the puke was gone.

“Where am I?” he croaked to no one in particular.

He tried to get up, but his body ached like he’d just had a workout. It was dark, his head hurt, and he was once again terrified.

“Harry?” he asked, “Ron? Anyone?”

Tears began falling from his face, and he felt like a damn child, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’re awake,” It was George, who turned on a lamp next to Draco.

“Where am I?”

“St. Mungo’s,” George answered, “We brought you here after you had a seizure. Do you remember anything?”

“No.”

“I’d hope not,” the twin said, “Some of the stuff you were saying was…genuinely disturbing.”

“What was I saying?”

“Well, after you woke up for your liquid meals, you started telling us about what you’ve been up to since the war ended: how you met that guy, and how he started giving you stronger and stronger drugs, how he got mad when you didn’t get enough money. Think you even gave us his name.”

“What?” Draco gulped.

“Yeah,” George confirmed, “The nurse contacted the ministry. You know, unforgivable curses and whatnot.”

Draco whimpered.

“Everyone will find out that I’m here.”

“Of course they won’t,” George assured him, “Because we’ve confounded everyone who saw you come in.”

“Why are you being so…decent?” Draco questioned again.

He didn’t get it. After all Harry and his friends had been through, after all that Draco had said and done to them over the years, why are they being so kind to him?

“It was Harry’s idea, and he’s very persuasive.”

“With all that’s happened to your family,” Draco said, “You still want to…”

“Not let you die on the street?” George finished lightly, “Yeah, we’re such great people, aren’t we?”

“Thank you,” Draco said, “For doing this. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“Well, you’ve mellowed out a lot since I’ve last heard.”

“I guess this experience humbled me.”

“Humbled and humiliated are two different things.”

“Perhaps. Still, it was for the better.”

“I’d hardly call selling your body for drugs and food ‘for the better.’”

“I just wanted to forget,” Draco pleaded, “And then, he…said he could make it happen.”

George looked at the blonde intently.

“I’m scared,” Draco admitted.

“Yeah.”

“Why does my body hurt?”

“The seizure caused severe muscle spasms all over your body. Since it lasted so long, you’re going to be in pain for a while.”

“The curses did this?”

“We think so. At the very least, the drugs are filtering out of your system, which is why you’ve been throwing up and sweating.”

Draco closed his eyes.

“I can never go home.”

“Why not?” George asked.

“My family isn’t like yours,” Draco said, “There isn’t any room for mistakes.”

“So I’ve heard,” George said, then, when Draco looked confused, “Harry said you’d spilled everything to the golden trio the other day.”

“What did I tell them?”

“That nothing was good enough for your parents, especially your father. You said he hit you.”

“He never left marks,” Draco defended.

“Because he healed them.”

The blonde gritted his teeth as he tried to prevent sobbing. He clutched his hair tightly.

“I hate him,” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco had tried to be like them, to be like his father. Not that it’d really worked. They’d had a fight before he left…

**“Draco, honey,” his mother pleaded, “Please.”**

**Draco slung his bag over his shoulder. It was able to fit some clothes, money, and his Quidditch broom.**

**“Son, be reasonable,” his father spoke.**

**“Reasonable?” Draco spat, a look of hate on his face, “Were YOU reasonable when you continued to beat me after I’d beg you to stop?”**

**“What?” his mother demanded, “What are you talking about, Draco?”**

**“Ask HIM,” Draco answered, and looked toward his father, “Now, get out of my way.”**

**Lucius grabbed Draco’s wrist as the boy tried to leave.**

**“I demand an explanation,” the man said.**

**Draco glared at his father.**

**“Tell her,” he said, “Tell her, how you’ve been beating me since I was able to walk, how you used threats to keep me quiet, how you told me I deserved it, how you used potions for the bruises you left.”**

**“You’re lying,” Lucius gave Draco the look that sent chills down his spine.**

**“Am I?” Draco refused to back down. He looked to his mother, “The pensieve. I’ve left some memories in there. YOU will enjoy reliving them, _father_.”**

**He spat the last word like it was venom. And, with that, Draco left.**

…

He was let out of the hospital after a week and was back at Grimmuald Place. Except, now, they all knew: about his father, about his old job.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” George asked.

“Yeah.”

“Great,” George pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket, “Your pay for last week.”

Draco took the money.

“Could I write a letter?” Draco asked, “To my mum? I want to know if she’s all right.”

“Yeah,” George said, then dug into his bag for paper and a quill.

Draco took the paper and quill and got writing.

 

_Mother,_

_How are you? I’m sorry I ran away, but I couldn’t take his abuse anymore. I hope you’re alright. Did you see the pensieve?_

_Love,_

_Draco._

 

Draco folded the paper and stuck it in the envelope, addressing it: Narcissa Malfoy.

“I’ll have Pidwidgeon send this,” George said.

…

A mere three days passed before Draco heard back from his mother. A very small owl, who he assumed was Pidwidgeon, delivered the letter. His name was on the envelope in what was, unmistakably, his mother’s handwriting.

 

_Draco,_

_I have seen your memories in the pensieve, though your father tried to convince me not to. I believe you, and I am so sorry I allowed this to happen under my nose. Your father tried to tell me what I saw was fake, and he had me committed to St. Mungo’s…_

 

Draco folded the letter without finishing it. **That bastard!** He threw the letter to the ground angrily, then stormed out of the house.

…

He apparated to a spot near the entrance of St. Mungo’s, and headed inside. After being directed to the correct floor, he went up to find his mother. He walked down the hall, past their old Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy, and kept walking, until…

“Draco?” a familiar voice called.

Narcissa set down the book she’d been reading and ran to Draco.

“Honey, I’m…” she stopped and hugged him, “I’m so sorry.”

“Can we talk? Privately.”

“Of course. Come.”

She led Draco to a private room down the hall.

“This is where I stay,” she told him.

Draco took in the sight of the small room, nothing like the mansion, more like a prison cell.

“When you left,” she began, “I went to the pensieve, Draco. I saw what he did, heard what he’d said to you, the names he called you. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Draco looked to the ground. “I wanted him to be proud,” he said, “I never knew he would do this!”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!”

“I’ve tried to contact you,” His mother spoke, “But you never wrote back. I thought, maybe, you didn’t want to speak to me.”

Draco’s eyes squeezed shut.

“He intercepted them,” Draco mumbled, “Must have.”

“Your father?”

“No,” Draco answered, “You’re…going to hate me for what I’ve been doing.”

“Never,” she promised.

Draco slowly explained what happened, what he’d done, and ended with Harry and friends helping him. Narcissa began to cry, and he knew she’d be disappointed.

“Is it permanent?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“The damage, the seizures,” she clarified, “Will they ever stop?”

“I don’t know.”

She hugged Draco tightly once again.

“Mum…”

“It’s all right,” she said, “I love you, Draco.”

“I love you, too, Mum,” he said, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

…

“You want to break your mother out of St. Mungo’s?” Ron asked.

“Doubt they’ll let us just walk out the front door,” Draco said.

“We can brew up some Polyjuice potion,” Harry said, “But it’ll take a month.”

Draco had come back to Grimmuald Place to find that Harry found the letter, and the blonde spilled his plans.

“Fine,” Draco agreed, “Should I bring her here?”

Harry seemed to think for moment, then, “Yeah.”

“Just don’t tell your father,” Ron quipped, and Harry nudged him.

Draco glared at him, “Not a problem.”

…

A month later…

When Harry and Ron finished with the potion, a vial was given to Draco, who noted the small brown hair floating in it.

“Thank you,” Draco pocketed the vial.

He made his way back to the hospital. Narcissa knew of the plan, and had nervously agreed when Draco explained it to her.

 

“Here,” Draco handed her the potion, “It’s Harry’s.”

Narcissa drank the potion and transformed into Harry.

“Follow me,” he said as he led her into the hallway and through the small crowd into the elevator.

On the first floor, they were barely noticed as they slipped out of the hospital.

“We’ll go to Harry’s house,” Draco spoke.

…

“You don’t want me to give her a job, too?” George asked lightly.

“No,” Draco said, “My mum’s got her own…inheritance.”

He didn’t dare mention his aunt. George nodded.

“We should be able to leave in a couple of weeks,” Draco said, a smile on his face.

“She knows about your addiction?”

Draco nodded, “The withdraws are nearly gone,” he said, “But the cravings are still there.”

“You gonna be okay?” Harry asked.

“I think so. At least, for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story will be about George.


End file.
